October 2003

Lucky for me my first drag king encounter is with an author on the subject. I read The Art of Drag Kinging cover to cover, taking notes.

I create a drag persona who is nothing like me. I look in the mirror and see a character, a disguise, a quiet unacknowledged longing.

Having never heard of a binder I employ a number of unsafe and uncomfortable methods to achieve a more masculine chest. It is important that drag be physically uncomfortable and inconvenient because if it wasn’t, I would stay in drag – always.

When I move to the Pacific Northwest (2006) I stop doing drag. This isn’t necessarily a conscious choice as much as the result of never establishing the same level of community here that I had in college. I am highly introverted and generally regarded as odd so creating a local support network from scratch was a large task. Justin Decent, my alter ego, has an unplanned retirement.

When I drag Justin back out of the closet 11 years later to host a youth drag show my uncomfortable binding methods seem much more extreme than they had in my own youth. After a couple of annual shows I convince myself that I just want to try out a binder and I will only use it for drag. Really just to save time and…safety. Yeah, that’s why.

It’s November 11, 2018. It feels like my binder is taking forever to get here. Unlikely to arrive on a Sunday. It will probably be a disappointment. It will probably be uncomfortable and impractical and a total waste of money. It arrives.

I experience a stop-everything-to-open-this-package moment when it arrives. It doesn’t matter that there is parenting to be done or that my wife is trying to make dinner – I call out “I just need a minute!” as I dash up the stairs.

It’s a nude gc2b full length binder. The images of the models on gc2b’s site come flooding back to me – so handsome and empowered…I postpone those thoughts…

Part of the euphoria which happens next is likely related to how well this binder matches my skin tone. For the first time I look down and see what my body might look like if I didn’t have breasts. I recognize myself as if I have never seen me before. I put on a t-shirt over my binder and for the first time, love the way my clothes fit. I love the way my body feels. I can’t take it off.

I cautiously come downstairs – simultaneously wanting this moment to be significant to everyone and wanting it to go completely unnoticed. Going unnoticed might mean that I could be this binder-wearing person without any consequences. It would mean that it changes nothing. My life is pretty perfect – I don’t think I want things to change. But if it is significant it means that it is…significant.

Our youngest son is quite attached to my soft, full bust. I recall the way my chest ached when he would cry as a baby. The way my already large bust swelled when my milk came in. The way he felt when they placed him on my chest for the first time – all sticky and breathtaking.

I worry suppressing my chest might be distressing to him. I sit down. He cuddles up to me. The way his head feels on my flat chest – is incredibly emotional.

I was 7 years old when I started to wear a bra. It was a necessity. The attention that brought about was disorienting and unwelcome. From the moment my body started changing I felt unnatural and deformed.

Twenty seven years later I find a long exhale.

I bind daily until top surgery.